


After the Storm

by infinitemonkeyswriting



Category: The Hour
Genre: Biting, F/M, Light BDSM, Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder, Smut, and some more smut, mainly just hints of a sub/dom power dynamic, the sex is just endless
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-14
Updated: 2014-04-25
Packaged: 2018-01-12 07:52:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 11,601
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1183770
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/infinitemonkeyswriting/pseuds/infinitemonkeyswriting
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Takes place during/right after the heartbreaking scene in 2x06 and continues from there. Freddie didn't happen for simplicities sake. Just pure Lix/Randall. Will be updated weekly / twice weekly (I can be easily swayed).</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. no one could have told you your body would fail you

**Author's Note:**

> \- Sorry for so many notes, but I promise there won't be any more (apart from the end notes) for the rest of this part of the fic (10 chapters). And the chapters get much longer after chapter 1.
> 
> \- **Slight Warning:** I tried to tone down the amount of kink, but I just couldn't resist it completely (I failed miserably to contain it in part 2). There is biting (and a bit of blood, though on accident), Randall is a bit submissive and Lix is a bit dominant, though occasionally it’s the opposite. Don’t know how far I’ll go with this.
> 
> \- I don't like The Hour much, I only watched it for Lix/Randall (and some of the first season for Lix) so forgive me if anything is inaccurate. I literally kept falling asleep and still have not idea what any of the actual plots were (hence lack of Freddie) but as far as I know most of their past is speculation (I borrowed some ideas about their past from other fics.). For example, I'm not sure the ring necklace was ever explained. Also I know it was visible in a scene or two but let's either pretend Randall didn't see it or didn't notice it because I wrote part of this before going through the episodes to check. It still sort of makes some sense though, even if he did see it before.
> 
> \- I know very little about how weddings and rings actually work/ed so let's assume Randall had no money and proposed with a wedding ring or something. Tried to make it make sense, but just in case it doesn’t, bend reality so that it does, tell it to fuck off like I did when I deleted engagement rings from my brain. The thought didn’t even occur to me until I'd already written half the thing.
> 
> \- I have no idea how the news program or any of it actually works as I haven't been able to get through an entire episode but I assume their workday starts later in the day.... or? somebody correct me. Minor things like this I can easily change.
> 
> \- I don't have OCD but I do have AS and certain OCD tendencies. I'm not sure if adults with OCD have meltdowns or how those work (autistic ones seem very different), but I tried to imagine a situation where I'd do what Randall did because to me it was kind of weird that he stopped. I would have kept going and then after everything was as organized as I could make it I'd break down exhausted. So... yeah. Oh and though I think OCD to some extent or another has been noticed for centuries, I'm not sure what kind of treatment they had for it back in the day. But if it's hard finding a psychologist now... I can only imagine back then with their bizarre theories.
> 
> \- Experimenting with third person limited. It will alternate between Lix/Randall. I've labeled it at the beginning of each chapter just in case.
> 
> \- Not one for song fics or mentioning songs or whatever to go with a fic, but since I listened to a whole bunch of stuff writing this and decided to name some of the chapter titles after lyrics, I'll be mentioning them briefly at the end of each chapter with a complete list + a few extra ones in the end notes.

Randall

  
Randall couldn't move for a moment. He couldn't breath.  
  
" _Died..._ " the word echoed in his mind. He'd already read it, but having Lix say it aloud was something else.  
  
He could feel the gears in his head grinding, the pressure mounting to fix, to organize. The papers on the desk caught his eye. He knew what was going to happen. Any second now he'd stop being able to resist.  
  
"Would you forgive me if I asked you to go." But Lix didn't move.  
  
"I- I can't move."  
  
His heart clenched. To see her like that. He couldn't take it, but even worse, she stayed, she’d see. He didn't think he could hold off anymore or take the embarrassment of giving in either.  
  
The urge became a need. "Please. Please, I need you to-"  
  
"No." The word was like dagger, piercing, sentencing him to his fate. _Please. Please. Please._ But he couldn’t even say the words.  
  
"No Randall, I won't go." She sat back and crossed her arms. His eyes pleaded with her. She could move. She could go.  
  
"I won't. You just... Just do what you need to do."  
  
He couldn't disobey. Even if in the back of his mind he still doubted she really meant it, that she really accepted all his quirks, he couldn't help himself. He started by straightening the few things that caught his eye, rearranging papers, sorting them, but he couldn't do it fast enough, well enough. He could not calm that need fast enough. Categories failed him and still, he couldn't stop.  
  
He hated it. He clenched his jaw. Rage bubbled in his chest. Rage at the injustice of his daughter's death. Rage at how helpless he was against his strange compulsions. Rage that they had failed to calm him in his hour of need.  
  
He started throwing things, pictures. Fuck them, fuck everything. He cleared sections of his desk with the sweep of a hand. He clenched the pristine white papers in his hand, savored the crinkle of the paper, then threw them against the wall. He tore and threw and destroyed until the outside resembled the inside.  
  
He took one glance at the mess and broke down, resting his head against the wood. Sobs shook his frame. _Why? Why? Why?_ Why was this happening? Why hadn't he stayed? Why hadn't he been more insistent?  
  
Sophia would be alive and they would have been happy.  
  
He felt a pair of arms wrap around him. He startled at the touch. He didn't want to be touched. He wanted to drown, to sleep, to shut off his mind. He wanted to run away, far far away from anything that could connect him to the real world, that could remind him of what had happened.  
  
But he realized, it was just Lix. Her words from before had not been a lie, just simple acceptance. She would never have tried this before, comforting him when he was in one of his... rages, as she'd called them once. She would have just run away, leaving him to his devices until he'd calmed down.  
  
He felt her hand cradle the back of his head. He reached up to grab it.  
  
"Lix..." he whispered, turning to her. He felt her fingertips brush against his cheeks, then stroke down to his jaw.  
  
He stood, now eye level with her. The ring hanging from her neck caught the light. He tugged on the chain. "You kept it." He looked at her eyes. "Why?" He wasn't just asking why she'd kept it, but why she'd acted like she hadn't. She seemed to get his meaning, because more tears slipped from her eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Title from [I Heard a Party by Gem Club](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eWfVjy0pJxo)


	2. this night has opened my eyes and I will never sleep again

Lix

She was crying for Spain, and for him, and for the future they could have had if only she'd said yes. How could such a simple word change so much? She wanted to go back and change it all, but however fresh the memory was in her mind, it was still cemented in stone.  
  
He’d been dreadful at seduction so his awkward proposal shouldn't have been a surprise, but it was.

* * *

They entered her room, tired after a long day, and when she turned around to offer him a glass of whiskey he was holding up a box. A ring box.  
  
He placed it on the table, fiddled with it until it was straight. Too embarrassed to look into her eyes, he didn't catch the way her face had fallen. He started to speak unaware of her distress. "Um, I've been thinking, perhaps... I mean, you don't have to but-"  
  
In the end, he never asked, not really. She interrupted him before he could. She'd been waiting for the right moment, and she hated that he was forcing her to be so tactless, but she had to say it.  
  
"I'm pregnant." She expected the silence she'd dreaded ever since she found out. She expected an argument. In her mind she’d imagined him throwing the ring box across the room, furious. They'd never discussed this, if they wanted children. Even if he did, it wasn’t the right time, the right place to raise a child.  
  
But he looked up at her, eyes bright. "Are you sure? That's great. That's..." he laughed, a smile growing on his face. He took a step towards her.  
  
Her heart clenched. He just had to make it harder. "I'm not keeping it."  
  
And just like that his happiness evaporated.  
  
"What?" he asked as if he'd heard wrong, a hint of hope still in his voice, but she crushed that too.  
  
"I can't. I can't raise a child and this isn't the place to raise a child either. I'll find someone, a nice couple-"  
  
"We can go back. I have some money. Might be able to afford a little flat."  
  
She clenched her fists. She was furious. "Get out."  
  
"What?"  
  
"Get out." She rushed to the door and threw it open, motioning him to get out. She looked down at the floor. She wouldn't cry. This was just the way things had to be, the way they always ended. Randall, despite her hopes, wasn't any different. She heard his footsteps as he approach her, saw his shoes out of the corner of her eyes.  
  
"Can we discuss this?"  
  
"There's nothing to discuss. I'm not going to settle down and be your little housewife."  
  
"That's not-"  
  
"No?" She looked up at him, tears brimming in her eyes. "We go back and then what Randall? I'd have to stay home. Children don't just pop out, ready to walk, independent enough to be left alone while their parents work 24 hour jobs. I won't be tied down. This..." she paused. "If you expect me to throw everything away just because... of an accident then... I guess this was never going to work."  
  
"Right... Is that what you really think? Is that all it'd be to you? An accident. A bother."  
  
Oh god, he was going to make her say it. The tears fell freely from her eyes now. She looked down at the ground. She feared it might all give her lie away. Deep down, she would admit later that she’d hoped he would see through it, but he believed her when she said, "What else can it be?"  
  
She shut the door the moment he was past the threshold and collapsed against it. She couldn't hold back the tears anymore. Sobs racked her body. She pressed her face into her hands and just cried.  
  
A distant part of her noted she'd never heard his footsteps fade away.  
  
She thought it would only be for a moment, a few minutes at most, but the tears just kept coming. There was a knock on her door.  
  
A soft, "Can we talk?" echoed through. When she didn't answer, three more knocks.  
  
She locked the door, took a deep breath and held it. One last knock, if it could even be called that (it was so soft), broke the silence, and then there was just the sound of footsteps walking away.  
  
She released the breath she’d been holding and cried herself to sleep.  
  
Only after she woke up did she realize he'd left the ring. She kept it in a drawer for a while expecting he'd come back, but he never did. She didn't see him again after that. Nobody knew where he'd gone.  
  
She got a letter from him, years later, months after she'd given away Sophia. She'd wanted to tear it to pieces, but she didn’t.  
  
They corresponded shortly until, in one letter, he'd thought it wise to tell her he was engaged. She didn't open them any more after that. He sent so many she had to write to him to stop.  
  
After she’d sent the letter she’d taken the ring out then from where she'd stored it in a box full of old photographs from Spain and slipped it on for the first time. She could have said yes. It could have been her. She couldn't bear to keep it on, but she couldn't stay away from it either. She decided to hang it around her neck, not as a sign of devotion, but as a reminder.  
  
They could never be.  
  
The letters though replaced the empty space the ring had left in the old battered cardboard box.

* * *

"Why?"  
  
 _Why had she kept it? Why had she pretended like she hadn't?_  
  
She didn't answer him. She could barely even admit the real reason to herself.  
  
The ring was supposed to be a reminder that they could never be, but now it was just a lie. She didn't care if he decided to read it as a sign of devotion as a sign that somewhere, deep down, she still had hope. He would have been right.  
  
She felt Randall brush her tears away. His thumb stopped at the corner of her lips. He leaned in, hesitant. For the first time, he was making the first move and she let him. His lips pressed against hers and Lix melted against him.  
  
She'd been afraid of this moment since he’d first showed up at the hour, afraid that it would wake up all the grief and regret she'd buried away for years, but Randall had chosen to wake her up anyways.  
  
She pulled at his lapels and deepened the kiss. He tasted different, more like himself. In Spain he'd always tasted like cigarettes and whiskey. Now there was only the barest hint of coffee and tea.  
  
"Randall," she sighed against his lips. It was freeing. She hadn't uttered his name quite like that in decades. Had it been decades? Did it matter? He was there now. They weren't too late.  
  
She pulled him closer, threading her fingers through his silver hair. His hands moved to her hips, anchoring her. She pulled at his tie, loosening it, and brushed her fingertips against his collarbone. He moaned softly at the touch, the sound reverberating through her.  
  
 _So long. So long._  
  
She unbuttoned the first button on his dress shirt, exposing more skin. He slipped his hand beneath her shirt.  
  
There was a knock on the door. They had always been good at forgetting the world, but it hadn't forgotten them.  
  
Lix pulled away, panicked.  
  
The door knob was turning. The door was opening.  
  
Though he looked like a deer caught in the headlights, Randall was quick to act. "I'm changing! Spilled something. I'll be right down."  
  
The door closed again. One more second and it would have been too late.  
  
"Oh, do you know where Lix went then?" came Bel's voice.  
  
Lix wiped her eyes, straightened her clothes, and swallowed.  
  
"She said she was feeling a bit ill,” Randall replied.  
  
“Oh, well, if you see her…” Bel's footsteps faded into the distance.  
  
Lix breathed a sigh of relief.  
  
"Right..." Randall looked at the mess around him and pinched the bridge of his nose. "I need..."  
  
"I'll clean it. You need to change, well your tie at least-"  
  
Randall shook his head. "No, no I... _I_ have to do it. ...I have to." He kneeled and started to collect the papers. He paused to look up at her for a moment. "Go find Bel. Tell her you feel sick. I'll make up some other excuse. I'll meet you outside."  
  
"What? Why? I'm fine." She wiped her eyes again, trying to ignore the shake in her hands and the tears that just wouldn't stop.  
  
Randall stood up and grabbed her wrists, pulling them away from her face. "You don't have to pretend with me."  
  
She glared at him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Title from [The Night Has Opened My Eyes by The Smiths]()


	3. we've got forever slipping through our hands

Randall

Randall could feel her coiling, ready to strike, but this time, he didn't let her go. "Please, can we stop this? Can we stop lying to each other? Lying to ourselves."

"But what about the show and..."

"But what? What exactly could possibly be more important than our well being."

She pulled away, managed to slip from his grip to cross her arms, hardening. "We can grieve later."

"Alone, you mean. And then we'll hide from each other. Two rats afraid of the dark. And then what happens? ...Burying the pain isn't the answer." He grabbed her shoulders and pulled her closer. "Please, let's go home."

She resisted for a moment. Her lip quivered, but then surrendered. Her arms unfolded and she wrapped them around him. She held on tight for a moment, crying softly against his shoulder. He hesitated briefly wrapping his arms around her. She'd never let him comfort her before. He rubbed her shoulders, testing the waters, but if anything she grew more relaxed. He tightened his embrace and stroked her back softly.

Her body grew heavy against his, exhausted. He kissed her cheek and then her jaw before settling in the crook of her neck. "Let's take you home." he whispered against her ear before pulling back.

This time she nodded mutely, her gaze fixed on something in the distance.

"I'll sort it out. Stay here." He was careful not to phrase it as a question, but still, he was surprised when she didn't object.

He wiped her lipstick from his face and put on a new tie. It felt like forever before he could get the knot just right. And when it was finally done, his hair caught his attention, and then his desk. He pinched the bridge of his nose. He had to resist. If he didn't it'd be hours before he could get out of the room.

Lix seemed to notice because she went over to him and closed the mirror. Her hands combed through his hair, making him presentable. He wanted to check himself in the mirror anyways, but he trusted her enough that it felt like more of an urge then a need.

"I'll pick up the papers and when you come back you can straighten them. Is that okay?" she asked.

He nodded.

So he went out looking a bit disheveled. He feared people would notice but instead his state brought a sense of urgency, of truth, to his words. They nodded in sympathy. He didn't even have to tell them the whole story, just that Lix felt very ill and that he was sure they could manage without him. His shaking hands were more enough to convince them. They suspected their relationship just enough that nobody even dared to offer to take her home instead.

When he got back to his office Lix was just as he'd left her, except his papers were all neatly stacked on his desk. He set about straightening them to his liking. He eyed the width between them repetitively, but it wasn't as bad as it could have been. It was only ten minutes before he was done and they could leave together.

"I just need to get something from my office," she said on there way out.

He nodded.

He couldn't stop looking at her as they finally made their way outside. He frowned. What worried him the most was that she wasn't saying anything. Usually she would have told him to stop staring.

Once they were outside, he got them a taxi. As they got in he looked at her, hesitating. She nodded. He gave the driver his address. Her flat, full of chaos and asymmetry, would only make things worse.

Their hands came together as if by some invisible force. His thumb stroked her’s softly, an old familiar habit. Lix leaned against his shoulder, the weight of her reassuring.

By the time they reached his place she was half asleep. She wiped her eyes and stumbled out of the car. He steadied her with a firm grip and then they walked arms intertwined, to his flat. To outside observers he imagine they looked like an old couple, happy and at peace. The truth was they were just two souls, together, but lost at sea.  
It wasn't until he reached his door that he realized what entering his flat meant. He paused, his face growing red.

"What is it?" she asked.

He closed his eyes and sighed. She would find out sooner or later the extent of his eccentricities. Sooner was probably better than later. He tapped the door knob, jiggled it, checked it was locked, before sliding his key in. Two turns, precisely 3 seconds apart. He counted as softly as possible under his breath, hoping she wouldn't hear, but knowing that she did.

The door swung open, but that was just the easy part.

He slipped off his shoes the moment he was inside and aligned them next to the door. This seemed to take ages. He could never get them just so. He heard Lix enter and the creak of the door as she closed it. He whirled around to stop her just in time. "No, I'll... I'll do it." Once the shoes were aligned he stood up and opened the door all the way. He had to hear that specific creak it made, then closed it with just the right amount of force. Key in. Two turns, three seconds. He turned the doorknob, jiggled it again, checking it was locked, and then his attention turned to her.

She was taking out a cigarette while she waited leaning up against the wall.

"Can I take off your shoes?" He motioned to a nearby seat.

She nodded mutely and sat back. She was wearing thick leather boots laced all the way up. He loosened them one by one, checking the ends were even, before slipping them off. He looked up at her. She didn't seem bothered by any of it, but then her face still had that blank expression that made him feel sick to his stomach. He took off her other boot and then placed them next to his shoes, again taking the time to align them just right.

He hung his coat and hers too, checking and double checking they hung even. He relaxed. Finally the routine was done.

He looked back at her to find her watching this time. "Do you want a cup of tea?"

She shook her head. "Whiskey?"

"I... I don't..."

"Oh, right, I forgot. A cup of tea is fine then."

He watched her out of the corner of his eye as he put the kettle on. She observed every wall, noting the symmetry of the room. The corner of her mouth twitched. Her expression softened. Why it brought a smile to her lips now, he wasn't sure, but he couldn't explain how relieved he felt. Before it used to drive her nuts.

A photo on his bookshelf seemed to catch her eye. It wasn't until she smiled again, this time more warmly, that he remembered what it was.

A photo he took of a protest. She was caught in the frame on the right hand side, finger an inch away from the shutter button. The very definition of a moment captured in time.

She studied it, lips pursed, as he poured their tea.

No sugar, no milk for her. Unbearably sweet (or so she used to say) for him.

She sat on his soft leather sofa, picture in hand, and stubbed out her cigarette. He handed her her cup and slid in beside her. She crossed her legs, eyes still trained on the frame.

"I didn't know you'd taken this." she said.

"I didn't either."

"This was before, wasn't it? Before we were..." but she didn't say the words.

"That very day actually. Followed you after, and then, well you know the rest." he said, taking off his glasses. He placed them on the coffee table, aligning them once or twice with the edge. "I didn't know I'd captured you in the photo," he continued, "not until years later when I was looking back over some old negatives. I remember seeing you though that day, snapping away with your camera. I saw you and..." he pulled at the collar of his shirt.

He doubted this was the right time to be mentioning any of that, to be bringing up the past, but then, what else had he expected them to do? They were tired, but not the sort of tired that eased with sleep.

"And what?" she asked, turning to face him, her eyes coming alive with mischief.

He swallowed. "I couldn't stop thinking about you."

She gave him a tight smile and turned her gaze back to the photo. "Yes, I was young and beautiful, wasn't I?"

"That's not what I meant."

"What happened to your wife?"

The change in topic caught him off-guard. "I never married. I thought you knew. I broke it off shortly after you and I corresponded. I told you in one of the letters."

She put her tea down on the coffee table, and then, after a moment's pause, spoke.

"I never read them," she admitted, her voice thin, on the verge of cracking. She wouldn't look at him. It all made more sense now.

He said nothing for a moment, struggling to find a way to summarize all the feelings he had poured into those letters. "I'd realized I couldn't stop thinking about you, that I hadn't, not since the very beginning, and it was very unlikely I'd stop any time soon. And I didn’t. ...I haven’t. Not for a day."

The softest sob escaped her lips. She turned further away from him, burying her face in her hand.

He grabbed the picture frame still in her right, pried it from her fingers, and intertwined them with his.

He placed it on the coffee table, hating himself for having to align it, then brought his attention back to her. Her gaze was fixed on the ground. He tugged on her hand. He needed to look at her, to look into her eyes, to see the thoughts floating just beneath her blue irises.

She glanced at him, but that was not enough. He placed his hand on her cheek and turned her head to him.

"Alexis..." He hadn't said her name in such a long time. It felt so foreign on his tongue. _Alexis._ It was a name and a question all wrapped into one. It had been his and his only.

"Alexis?" he'd asked once as he'd caught sight of her name on her passport.

"Nobody calls me that, but..." here she'd paused, eyes boring into his. "I think I could make an exception. I quite like the way it sounds on your tongue." And then she'd kissed him, long and deep. He still remembered that kiss, the way it had made his spine tingle and his toes curl.

Alexis. Was it still his?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Title from [Between Two Points by The Glitch Mob ft. Swan](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9VV8sgVSZNQ)


	4. i saw something in your eyes

Lix

She reached up to stroke his jaw. She loved the way he said her name, the way he let each syllable linger, the way his accent wrapped around it. He still sounded exactly the same.

Yes, he had aged. His once smooth face was now lined with wrinkles. His hair was gray. But none of that had stopped the way he affected her.

And his eyes... they still held that look of pure adoration.

Her pulse raced. Her heart clenched in anticipation. She wanted to resist just out of habit. His office had been a slip. She was much more composed now. Even if he were to lean in... it was still up to her in the end, and he knew that, which was precisely why he wouldn't.

She took a deep breath.

"Randall..." Her hand moved down to his shoulder to clutch at his suit. Could they work or would this become just another item in her long list of regrets. Why was she even thinking it over? Hadn't she already decided back at the studio? What had happened to her? She'd been so impulsive. Oh, right, life, life had happened, and she'd built up walls so high she could hardly remember what was on the other side. But what was the real risk, really? There was no hope for them if they wouldn't even try.

She leaned in and pressed her lips to his. Randall relaxed against her, moaning softly into her mouth. She pressed him back against the couch and crawled onto his lap.

He was so soft and complaint. Just a brush of her thumb against his jaw and he was angling his head just the right way. She hated it when men were so domineering just for fear that being otherwise would hurt their pride, or when they submitted just because they were too shy to do anything else. Randall was different. Reserved and proper perhaps, and slightly submissive, but not shy. And on occasions when he’d taken the lead, it was not out of some foolish pride.

His hands grabbed roughly at her waist, fingertips digging into the fabric of her trousers. Harder, she wanted to say, but she bit at his bottom lip instead. He shuddered beneath her, hands gripping her hips with a bruising force, kisses becoming fevered.

Then she kissed her way down his jaw, down to his neck. She kissed and sucked at that spot right beneath his ear and ran her tongue down his jugular. Moving his shirt out of the way she bit down, hard, where his neck met his shoulder. A promise. _I won't forget in the morning._

His breathing grew ragged against her ear. She could feel him growing hard beneath her. She ground down, eliciting a soft gasp. His hands tugged on her shirt, frantic now to touch her skin. She unbuttoned it quickly.

Skin on skin. It was glorious. He still remembered exactly how to touch her. He slid his hands underneath her bra to cup her breasts, thumbs gliding against the underside, pressing softly against her nipples, but never stroking or flicking. She was much too sensitive. He'd never questioned it like everybody else, just adjusted to her.

Now, she realized, she had to adjust to him. Where once she would have teased him and thrown their clothes purposely on the floor, now she shrugged off her shirt and folded it neatly beside him. "Is that okay?"

He looked at it and pursed his lips. "Sorry." And he set the edges straight, aligning the shirt on the arm of the couch.

"It's okay." she shushed him, stroking his hair and bringing his lips back to hers. She reached to unbutton his shirt and do the same with his.

He pulled back and stopped her hands. "Maybe... I think it would be easier if I just undressed first." He motioned in the direction of his room.

She nodded and slipped off him. She breathed a sigh of relief when he headed straight towards his room, forgetting the empty tea cups on coffee table.

Randall's room was like the rest of the house, clean, but it also felt strangely stark. Here there were no shelves, or books, or trinkets, just a wardrobe. In fact there was evidence of shelves on one of the walls, but they had been taken out.

Randall opened the wardrobe to reveal a full length mirror and started by taking off his socks and putting them in a drawer marked wash. She followed his lead.

Then came his shirt. Fingers pinched each button before undoing them in his own calculated manner. Lix drew up beside him and stroked his shoulder. "Is this okay?"

He nodded, slipping it off and hanging it. She pressed a kiss to the newly exposed skin on his shoulder and placed her hands on his hips. "You just stop me if it's too much."

"No," he hummed, leaning back into her touch. She wrapped her arms around him and stroked his chest through his undershirt. He took her hands and brought them down to where it was tucked into his trousers, "You can... if you'd like, front first."

His breathing was heavy again. In the mirror she could see his arousal straining through the fabric. She clenched her legs at the thought.

She untucked the shirt, front to back, hands lingering, then slipped it off him and handed it back. Randall hung it quickly, his movements shaky. She wrapped her arms around him, this time slipping one hand down beneath his trousers to cup him through the fabric of his pants.

He bucked in her hand, gasping.

She smirked. She could get used to this. It was strangely arousing.

She withdrew her hand then and he took off his trousers as quickly as possibly. He hung them and then he turned back to her, eyes burning. He cupped her face and kissed her, desperate. But not the rough sort of desperate. Instead his kiss was languid, heady. His hands went to her trousers, quickly undoing them and she shrugged them off her legs.

He broke off to fold them. She pressed kisses to his neck as he hung it and smoothed out any wrinkles.

"Is this enough... or?" she motioned to her undergarments. I wasn’t like she minded being naked, but he was never fond of getting undressed ahead of time.

"Mmm, no this is fine." He closed the closet door, checked the handle was straight, then turned back to her. He kissed her, slightly more agitated now, and led them to his bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Title from [Saw Something by Dave Gahan](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=O8m51E0TxHM)


	5. when you give half of you

Randall

She pushed him onto the mattress, straddled his hips, and unhooked her bra. She paused then, looming over him, hair disheveled, bra half-way off. Her hands stroked down his chest. Her eyes raked down his body, studying him.

He blushed.

She looked the same. Maybe her features were more defined now, her body more filled out, but compared to him she hadn't aged a day. He on the other hand was all wrinkles and gray hair.

"Are you blushing?" she smirked, hands stroking his hair. She leaned down and pressed a kiss to his collarbone. "Don't worry. I'm finding you’re rather like a good bottle of wine. Better with age."

He raised an eyebrow at that, but her hand skirted southward and he arched into her, losing his train of thought. Her hand was almost unbearably warm through the fabric. And then Lix's mouth was on his, swallowing his moans. Her hand slid up, tugging at his waistband before slipping beneath the fabric. He gasped. She stroked him once, teasing, before her hand disappeared entirely. He whimpered in protest.

She shrugged her bra off and set it on the night table then kissed him again. Soft, lazy kisses, not their usual duel of tongues. She let her body melt around his, touching as much skin as possible, enveloping him. "Randall..." she sighed as her hands stroked down his chest.

He tried to relax, he really did, tried to ignore the way her bra was slipping off the nightstand, but he couldn't.

He turned his head away, "Wait, wait, wait."

He sat up, holding her to him, and aligned her bra just right against the edge of the table. "Sorry," he murmured.

"Don't be. It's okay," she stroked his face and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek. "We'll adjust. Though I think it might be better if we just get it over with." She got off the bed and slipped off her knickers, handing them to him.

He swallowed, they were soaking wet, but folded them nonetheless.

"And now you. Lift your hips."

He did and she slipped his boxers off and handed them to him. "Thank you," he murmured as he folded them too. And then at last they were free of all their clothing.

He scooted so he was laying in bed. Lix settled in facing him and drew the covers up a bit. "I should have turned on the heat." He frowned, stroking the soft skin of her shoulder with his other hand.

"No, no, don't worry about it. We'll just have to warm each other up." She scooted closer to him, but Randall grabbed her hip with a grin and pushed her so that she was on her back. He slipped his hand between her legs. He wanted to see her come apart for once.

He took two fingers and stroked her folds. She relaxed against the pillows, hand clutching at his shoulder, legs opening.

He pressed soft opened mouth kisses to her exposed neck. Below, his thumb brushed against her clit. He relished in the sigh that escaped her lips.

He got up and leaned over her, kissed the other side of her neck then down to her breasts, licked at them gently, then continued down to her stomach.

Lix stopped him, grabbing onto his shoulders. "I-I want you inside me." She pushed to roll them over and he complied.

She'd never stopped him like that, but he didn't have time to give it much thought either. Her hand wrapped around him, slipping something on. A condom.

"What- When?" he stuttered.

"I was worried you wouldn't have any. Had some in my office." She explained. She checked it was secure then lowered herself onto him before he could think about the implications of what she'd said. She sank down, enveloping him. They both bit back a moan.

His hands went to her hips. She leaned down to kiss him while she adjusted. Her hands raked through his gray hair. Then her hips started a gentle rock as her tongue mirrored her movements. It made his spine tingle, the way she coordinated. And her hands were everywhere, memorizing him, touching him as if he were precious. How long had it been since he'd been touched like that? So long. Long enough that it startled him with it's intensity.

He broke the kiss and pushed the hair back from her face to look into her eyes. Soft blue eyes, edges red from crying. Eyes he hadn't had a proper look at in such a long time. Eyes he thought would never look at him like this again, full of love and acceptance.

"I love you," the words tumbled from his lips without permission, needing to be expressed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Title from [Half Of You by Cat Powers]()


	6. shake me... shake me...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the late-ish post. It's all written up and part 2 is halfway done, but I was busy. Will post another chapter tomorrow since this one was so short and I was so late.

Lix

She froze. Love. Was it love? Did she love him back? Or was it just nostalgia? No, she'd be lying to herself if she told herself that was it. She was in love with him, but was he? She hadn't even stopped to consider it. In Spain he'd say it all the time. Love you, love you, love you. Chanted it softly into the night. Had that even been real? She didn’t want to think about it.

_Brush it off._

She regained her composure and smiled, "Tell me again in the morning." She resumed her movements, rolling her hips harder against his, distracting him, hoping he wouldn't say a word.

His arms wrapped around her, pressing them closer, but he didn't speak and she didn't know whether to feel relieved or not.

_He loves me. He'll remember. He'll say it in the morning._

She pressed a chaste kiss to his mouth and pushed her doubts from her mind.

"Are you close?" he panted.

"Yes." she whispered.

His hand wandered down to where they joined anyways, nimble fingers coaxing soft gasps from her lips.

_Almost there._

She could feel it, coiling inside her, could feel the room fade away until it was only the them. She closed her eyes.

One. Two. Three shared breaths and then she was over the edge.

She pressed her forehead to his as the intoxicating pleasure ripped through her. His fingers were still stroking her, deliciously prolonging everything. Her fingers dug into her neck. Her legs clenched around him. She wanted to hold on and let go all at once.

And then as the pleasure subsided and his hand stuttered to a stop, she opened her eyes just in time to see him fall apart. His head arched back and he exhaled sharply. She stroked his cheek as he tensed, his hands clutching her to him.

She pressed a kiss to his cheek as he relaxed into the pillows. "Not too bad," she joked.

He smiled and leaned up to capture her lips in a soft kiss. "Stay?" he asked.

"You don't have to ask." She moved to lay beside him. "I could use a shower though."

He nodded, closing his eyes. "Just a moment. I feel a bit like jelly."

She laughed then rested her head against his shoulder and closed her eyes.  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Title from [Skyscraper by Julian Plenti](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5-3I7wUt2_8)


	7. for the times I've behaved like a switchblade

Randall

He hadn't planned on falling asleep and it seemed, neither had Lix, for her head was still on her shoulder, exactly as he remembered it. It seemed the day had exhausted them equally to sleep. He looked at the clock. It was very early in the morning, but since they'd fallen asleep so early, it didn't feel like it at all. His energy had returned to him, but the haze of pleasure had also been replaced by the ever-nagging feeling that something was off. He felt dirty, sticky. The room felt off balance.

Lix was still deep asleep so he extracted himself from her carefully and rushed to clean himself up. He slipped on a new pair of boxers and put the old ones on the nightstand to wash. Lix could pull walking around naked. He couldn't. It felt all sorts of weird. Her underwear he took to the bathroom, washed, and hung.

He peaked at her from the bathroom. She still hadn't woken. He brushed his teeth, and checked he wasn't due for a shave, then took a moment to study the bite mark she'd left on his neck.

It wasn't a new thing. She'd done it occasionally before. He hadn't minded it then and he didn't mind it now, but his skin was more delicate and it had bled lightly near the top. He cleaned the bruise and taped a small piece of gauze to it so that it wouldn't stain anything. Stains were his worst nightmare.

He looked at the shower head. Perhaps it was better if he drew them bath. More relaxing.

When the water was all ready, he sat down beside her and stroked her cheek. She was a heavy sleeper and she didn't wake. She looked so at peace. He couldn't resist pressing a kiss to her soft lips. He still couldn't quite believe it, after all those years she was there. "Lix," he whispered softly and then more loudly.

Her eyes fluttered open. "What..."

"We fell asleep."

"Oh, how embarrassing." She buried her head further into the pillows.

He chuckled. "I've drawn us a bath." He paused. "That is unless you..."

She yawned. "Mmm, that's fine. Go get in. I'll be right there."

He went into the bathroom, undressed, and got into the bath. The water was just the right temperature. He didn't know how it'd happened (usually finding the sweet spot between scalding and freezing was like playing Russian roulette) but it was like everything had finally decided to give them a break.

He heard her get up, but she didn't come into the bathroom. He could hear her rummaging for something in the closet, and then she was standing before him, cigarette in hand, naked and absolutely unfazed.

He gaped. It wasn't like he just hadn't seen her naked before (just hours ago in fact), but this felt a bit different. He could see her clearly now in the harsh bathroom light.

The soft scar below her stomach drew his attention. A pang of guilt ran through him, but he said nothing.

At the same time, her eyes seemed to register his neck and she rushed over. "Are you okay?"

He batted her hand away. "I'll be fine. Just punctured the skin a bit."

"You should have stopped me."

He cupped her face. "Enjoyed it too much to notice." He grinned. "Now get in."

"Are those my knickers?" she pointed to the small black triangle hanging from the corner of the towel rack.

He scratched his neck, blushing. "Yes, thought you'd need them."

"I don't suppose it would be a good idea to tell you I've gone without them before, would it?" She winked.

"I-" He didn't know what to say. It was definitely not wise to inform him, especially now that however much he hated admitting it, he knew he wasn't above kissing a co-worker in his office.

She smiled then asked. "Do you have an ashtray?"

"Just use the soap thing."

"The soap thing?" she laughed.

She got it, then got in, back resting against his. He reached for her free hand and intertwined their fingers. Nuzzling her head, he pressed soft kisses to her neck. One of his hands moved to her hip then caressed her thigh. He still couldn't believe with what ease she aroused him. He hadn't been with anyone since... his fiance, and that had only been a few times and seemed hardly to count knowing the years of abstinence that followed. When Lix had kissed him on the sofa, for the briefest moments he’d doubted if he remembered how to do anything at all.

"Aren't you insatiable." said Lix.

God he wanted to kiss her. He suddenly felt as desperate as last night, but this wasn't the best position unless they wanted to end up with cricks in their necks. But later, later he was going to kiss her until his lips were sore and even then, when his lips ached, he doubted he'd be able to resist for it would be the sweetest of pains.

He suddenly remembered a poem that described the very feeling and as he wasn't one to resist quoting...

"Had we but world enough, and time," he started.

"Oh god, Randall," she complained, but he could hear the smile in her voice. "Don't. At least not the whole poem."

"Fine. Just the relevant bits. This coyness, lady, were no crime. We would sit down and think which way. To walk, and pass our long love's day."

“You're quoting the entire thing," she complained.

"Fine. Fine. An hundred years should go to praise Thine eyes," he kissed her temple, "and on thy forehead gaze; Two hundred to adore each breast," His hands went up to her breasts, kneading them softly. "But thirty thousand to the rest;" They slipped down to her stomach. "An age at least to every part..."

He was about to continue, but she'd grown tense in his arms. He stopped confused. She was holding her breath. He opened his mouth to speak, but then he realized where his hands were resting. He'd completely forgotten about the scar. He moved his hands away and tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear. "Is this why you wouldn't let me... Before?"

"I didn't want to remind you." She admitted. "... and I didn't want to be reminded. I wanted to push it all away for a moment." He could hear her tearing up. "Every time I think about her..." Here, her voice cracked.

"I know."

"And I feel guilty when I don't. And..." She drew a shuddering breath. "Even this feels wrong."

"What?" He asked confused.

"Us. How can we be enjoying ourselves when..." She stopped and brought the cigarette to her lips and took a long drag.

He stroked her shoulders, trying to sooth her. He had no clever words, no fix.

Lix continued. "And it's not like I didn't know. I lied to myself. I told myself she was safe. But somewhere deep down I knew and I didn't turn back. When they stopped sending me letters. When years had passed. I kept pushing it to the back of my mind. Sometimes... sometimes I managed not to think about her for days." Lix's confession was a slur of words muffled against her hand. The words just kept pouring, the fact that her back was turned to him breaking all her walls. It was like he could hear her thinking. It felt unbearably intimate.

He'd heard too much. Too much of the very pain he had caused. _He’d_ woken her up. He could have let her sleep. "I'm sorry."

"No. I'm sorry." She stubbed her cigarette out and turned completely to face him. Her arms wrapped around his neck and she buried her head in his shoulder. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry."

The position was awkward, but not uncomfortable. He leaned forward, wrapping his arms around her back.

"I should have married you. I should never have given her up. I should have replied." She sobbed harder into his shoulder.

"We can't drown in what ifs. We have to keep going.” He stroked her back. “That doesn't mean we have to forget her, but we can't just stop our lives. I.... I missed you so much after the letters. I-" He didn’t want to admit it but he had to. "I drank and drank until I'd drowned the whole world out. I was on the streets. I... I didn’t keep going. I had stopped and nothing good came out of it. It wasn't until I realized I'd never get anywhere that I finally gave it up. I realized I'd never find you if all I did was think about you."

"But there's nothing now. There's no goal. Nowhere to be, to go."

"There's us..." He pulled back and cupped her face in his hands. He wiped away her tears. "I love you. I'm not saying it lightly. I've never said it lightly. I love you." He wiped away the new tears that fell down her face. "Do you believe me now?"

She nodded and embraced him again. "I love you too." She murmured into his neck.

"Do you... do you really wish you'd married me?"

"Don't make me admit to it again," she warned, but after a moment’s pause, she added, "I was afraid it would take away my independence. I mean, perhaps it would have a little bit, especially with... Sophia, but now I see we would have found away around it. I refused out of fear."

Randall pulled back and tugged at the ring around her neck. "And what would you say now? I mean, of course we can't. Not while we're at the Hour. And you don't have to, not officially." He was rambling now. "I just… What I mean is, in spirit... My question still stands."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Title from [Switchblade by Phildel]()


	8. i was a heavy heart to carry

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh god, like i said in the beginning, ignore anything about the rings that doesn't make sense. I erased weddings from my mind, okay.

Lix

All she could think was that this was going to fast. At this rate they'd move in together by the end of the week. She felt the urge to hesitate, to think it over, but when had that ever helped? And hadn't she decided to handle things on impulse from now on.

She looked down at the ring. He was tugging on it very lightly, but it suddenly felt heavy around her neck. He wasn't demanding much at all with his proposal, and yet in a way he was asking for her to say yes to something that felt far more binding than just getting married. People got married all the time, that didn't mean they loved each other, didn't prevent them from cheating, didn't prevent them from breaking eachother's hearts. Randall was not asking her what she wanted, but what she felt. She had no choice in the answer, only whether she lied.

_No more lies._

"Yes," she whispered.

"May I?" He moved to undo the chain. She nodded.

He took the ring from her necklace and laid it beside them for a moment as he put the chain back on her neck. His light touches gave her goosebumps.

He grabbed her hand and moved to get the ring.

"I can't wear it to work." She objected, snatching her hand back.

"I'm not asking you to wear it to work."

She relaxed and let him slip on the ring.

"Mrs. Brown." He teased.

She glared at him.

"Shall I take your surname then. Mr. Storm. I wouldn't mind. Sounds rather intimidating."

"You're already intimidating enough dear." She looked down to study the ring.

"Actually," he continued "I sort of have mind too. It's locked away in the nightstand. I... had very little money. It was easier to buy both."

She kissed his cheek. "I'm glad you did."

He paused. "Am I?"

"Are you what?"

"Intimidating."

"Not to me. I know what you're really like."

He gave her a chaste kiss on the lips. "Turn around. I'll do your hair."

"Oh no, that's fine. If you do I won't be able to put it back without going home. Nobody will notice anyways. Let me wash yours."

He tensed and opened his mouth as if to object but then handed over his shampoo.

"I'm not sure..." he started,leaving a dozen words left unspoken, but she could hear them all. So this was how far his eccentricities had creeped, to drown out even the pleasure of something he used to love.

"We'll try?" she suggested and he turned around hesitantly. She made him lay back against her then started, not with his head, but by massaging his shoulders. He sighed and she could see that he'd closed his eyes. _Perfect._

She slowly made her way up his neck, adding shampoo as she worked her fingers into his hair, first behind his ears then further up the sides.

When he tensed she whispered, "It's just me."

She didn't know if it was of any help, but he didn't make her stop. She combed her fingers through the top of his head then made him sit up to work at the back. When she was done she placed a soft hand on his shoulder and he ducked beneath the water to rinse. He took a little longer then needed, fingers scrubbing away all traces of the shampoo. Little air bubbles started to rise.

When he came up, he was gasping for air. She took a look at his face to make sure he was okay. She bit her lip. Just the sight of him dripping wet, water rolling down his face, sent an ache between her legs.

"Is it okay?" She asked.

He combed his fingers through his hair, flipping it back, then relaxed. "Yes, I think so."

"Randall..." she started cautiously, running her hands soothingly down his back. "Have you thought about... seeing someone?"

His muscles tensed.

"I don't mind if it truly puts you at ease,” she continued, “but sometimes... like last night. I can't help but feel it bothers you. I don't... I don't remember it being this often."

He sighed and drew his knees up, elbows resting on them, and buried his head in his hands. She took her hands away and swallowed. It had been a mistake bringing this up so early.

"They were all so... they just made me talk and talk... and nothing helped. I'd go home and... the bookshelves."

She was afraid she knew exactly what he meant. She'd once seen him sit for an entire day, arranging all his film negatives. She could only guess how long he'd spent with the books. Now she knew why he had had the bookshelves taken down in his room.

"Randall... I... I was only asking. I..." She stroked his shoulder blade softly. "You don't have to see anyone. We can work on it together if you want. Whatever you need, I'll try." She wrapped her arms around him.

"You. Just you... Please."

" 'course. Come on. Lay back."

He laid back against her chest, exhausted by the whole conversation. She decided he needed a little distraction.

She drew her hands down his chest until she reached his hips. She wrapped her hand around him before he became aware of her intentions.

He drew a shuddering breath at her touch. She gave him a few teasing strokes. He moaned softly and grew hard in her hand. She stroked harder. Soon his breathing was uneven. His eyes clenched shut. His hand reached desperately for her free one and intertwined their fingers. Her ring glimmered in the soft light. She rubbed the back of his hand as his grip tightened.

He was right on the edge. Poor man even tried to warn her. "Ah, I... I'm-" His words indistinct gasps.

"Shh, this is just for you." She stroked him harder, faster, teasing the head with every up stroke.

His grip tightened almost painfully on her hand, and he groaned loudly, arching back into her as he went over the edge. She slowed her strokes, felt him pulse against her hand.

She clenched her legs. The spike of arousal caught her unaware. Just the sight of him again... His mouth was hanging open in a silent gasp. He was still dripping wet. She closed her eyes and pressed her cheek to his, trying to contain herself.

She rarely did this for other lovers and when she did it always felt chore like. But Randall… She'd tried to deny it to herself, but when she saw Randall in the halls, just the sight of him caused her to tread that fine line between fury and desire. She should have guessed she would find this arousing.

He relaxed, heavy against her, and she tipped his head to the side, seeking his mouth, anything. His lips were slow, drowsy. She darted her tongue between them. He was a bit out of it, but acquiesced.

She sat up a bit, adjusted them so that they were more comfortable, so that she could explore his mouth at her leisure. She nibbled at his bottom lip, that always drove him him desperate, but his kisses remained lazy. She wanted his bruising kisses, the ones that made her feel like he wanted to swallow her whole, the ones that made her lips tingle afterwards. She bit his lip hard, hoping to get some reaction, but he just exhaled in surrender. That turned out to be infinitely more arousing than the reaction she’d originally wanted.

She broke the kiss and rested her forehead against his for a moment, trying to control herself. This was obviously going nowhere and it was her fault. She sighed and looked down at her hands, all shriveled.

"Let's get out," she said.

Randall blinked at her for a moment but then got up, reaching for a towel and wrapping it around his hips. He got her one then, and held it open for her.

She grabbed it and dried herself instead.

He had to use two towels. She didn't even bother with her knickers.

He dried himself off, then slipped on his boxers, never naked for more than a few seconds. She wanted to laugh at his urge for modesty after what they'd just done, but resisted.

She watched him as he dried his hair then combed it back into place ever so neatly. He took off the wet gauze on his neck. She could see a bit of blood on the inside.

"Are you sure you're okay?" She asked, reaching over to inspect the wound. She gasped softly as she saw the damage. "God, I didn't-"

"I'll be fine." he insisted as he cleaned it. "It looks worse than it is. Water puffed it up a little bit."

"Here let me." She taped a fresh piece of gauze back on.

He turned to her with a reassuring smile then said "Please tell me you've changed and you do breakfast now."

She laughed and shook her head.

"Not even breakfast in bed?"

"I might manage a cup of tea." she kissed him chastely and headed back to bed.

Randall slipped on a pair of trousers and an undershirt and went out to make them breakfast. It was a bit chilly in the bedroom so she went into his wardrobe and slipped on his shirt, hoping he wouldn't mind.

He came back with two tea cups and a fresh piece of buttered toast for him, all on a small neat tray. He placed it in the middle of the bed. He didn’t seem bothered in the least by his shirt hanging on her frame for his eyes lingered the entire time.

He then went to the nightstand and opened the last drawer. After rummaging about a bit he drew out his ring and slipped it on as if it was just another morning routine. How he managed to act so casual about it she had no idea. She couldn't take her eyes off it. She knew it wasn't official, but to see the matching rings on their fingers...

She reached for her tea, trying to distract herself. Between the bath and this... She clenched her thighs.

Randall meanwhile ate his breakfast with leisure. She was starting to suspect he knew exactly what he was doing to her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Title from [Heavy in Your Arms by Florence + the Machine](http://youtu.be/V_eOmvM-4zc)


	9. let me see you stripped down to the bone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay. Part 2 is almost all written up, I just need to edit it, but that might take me a while, so I didn't post a chapter as fast. I'm also thinking of writing something for Malcolm, probably with Jaime. I'm a bi, but I since I lean towards men and I'm a guy, I usually prefer writing slash. Unfortunately there's just never enough characters I can actually imagine together. I find Ollie nauseating, for example. Ugh. Just throwing that out there in case anybody is interested, or has any requests because at this moment I have no ideas, just an urge.
> 
> Also, funny story about this chapter. I wrote it, and then a few days later, I discovered this: [Some Lie and Some Die. It's around 1hr 43m in case it doesn't jump to it. I almost melted into my office chair. Just fuck. You know when you're wildest ideas come true, yeah, mmm so awesome. Unfortunately I don't have time to GIF it, but enjoy the visual aid.](http://youtu.be/F9vnV8DAVMs?t=1h43m17s)

Randall

Randall couldn't help but tease her. He hadn't noticed, not until they were out of the bath and her gaze kept lingering on him with that hungry look. All for him? He appreciated the sentiment but he knew she was lying to herself. Before she would have never said that, just, "Your turn." always implying there would be a "My turn."

He wondered how long it would take until it consumed her and she stopped resisting. He was impressed she'd even gotten this far. He was done with his tea now and still nothing, but his toast... He took smaller and smaller bites as he ate it, prolonging the moment.

And he couldn't forget the ring. He turned his hand, letting it catch the light. For how badly she'd refused him once, she seemed awfully fond of it now.

He put everything down on the tray. She crossed her legs, but said nothing.

He set the tray on the nightstand and turned back to her.

She was tugging on his shoulders and pressing her lips to his before he even had a chance to smirk.

"Randall." She admonished.

"What?" he asked innocently.

"You know what."

He paused for a moment, serious. "You sure?"

She nodded and pushed his head to her neck. He made his way down to her stomach and pressed a chaste kiss to the scar, just briefly. He did not want to linger on it for too long. He used to dream he'd stayed and she'd accepted and that during lazy summer afternoons he'd kissed her full stomach and just sit for hours on end, hand on her stomach, waiting for the baby to kick.

At least Lix had seen her, touched her.

He pushed the thoughts away, it would do no good to be jealous.

He pressed a kiss to her hip bone then skipped down to kiss the soft skin of her inner thigh.

Lix groaned, impatient. Her fingers threaded into his hair, pulling, bringing him closer. He grabbed her wrists and pinned them beside her. It wasn’t that he didn’t like it. He loved it, but he wanted to tease her.

“Don’t move.” He let go of her hands and took a hold of her legs, holding them open. He continued, pressing soft kisses to her inner thighs, moving closer to where she wanted, but never quite getting there.

Her breathing was heavy now. Her hands gripped at the sheets. He licked along the seam of her leg. She whined in protest, but said nothing. He pulled back, his breath ghosting over her, making her writhe. When he swiped his tongue along the length of her lips she arched back. He hummed against her. She tasted exactly the same.

He paused at her swollen nub, teasing with his tongue and she sighed, relaxing at the familiar contact. He kissed, and sucked, until her breathing was shallow, and her legs twitched with the effort not to move, not to wrap around him like he knew she wanted to.

 

He stopped, moving down, licking at her absentmindedly, pressing his tongue into her, nibbling at her outer lips, and ignoring where she wanted him most again. Her body grew taught with need. He ran his hands along her legs, feeling her muscles clench at his touch. He leaned back, again, just his breath tickling her skin, then moved to press a finger into her. She was so slick. It was one thing to feel her with his mouth, but quite another with his hands.

He added another finger and leaned back to watch her face. She had sat up slightly and was looking at him, bottom lip caught between her teeth. He smirked. He took his fingers out of her for a moment and licked them. Her eyes clouded over with lust.

“Lean back,” he ordered. “Close your eyes.”

“That’s cruel,” she complained, but obeyed him nonetheless.

He pressed his fingers back into her, adding a third as a reward and curled them upwards. She shuddered.

“Don’t,” he warned and moved to suck and nibble at her clit, testing her.

“Oh god, Randall...” but he moved back to a slow leisurely pace again, keeping her on edge. He wanted to hear her beg.

She grabbed at his free hand. “Randall… Randall…”

He hummed against her. He loved how she said his name in moments like those, in rough desperate whispers.

“Randall… please.” Her voice changed into a high pitched whine. “Please.”

“Okay,” he said and sucked hard, humming loudly against her.

She tensed and arched back. He kept his tongue flicking against her clit until she cried out against the onslaught of pleasure. He slowed down then, letting her relax. He took his fingers out and lapped at her wetness, enjoying the occasionally twitch of her legs at his continued stimulation.

She grabbed his hair and pulled for him to come up and he allowed her now. She brought his lips to hers, kissing him deeply, the taste of her still on his mouth. They’d never tried this before, not so soon after. He obviously didn’t mind and it seemed she didn’t either, but he couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow when he leaned back.

She blushed. Lix never blushed. He almost didn’t know what to make of it. Almost.

He laid down beside her and brought his wet fingers to her lips. She opened her lips tentatively, tongue peeking out to lick at his fingers.

“Wider,” he rasped, pushing his finger into her mouth. Her tongue swirled around the digit. Her embarrassment had faded and now she was giving him a sultry look. Had he not just orgasmed minutes ago he was sure he would have been hard as a rock. He added a finger, and then another, until she’d cleaned off all three.

She turned to give him a chaste kiss. “Love you,” she murmured against his lips before wrapping her arms around him.

He melted into her embrace, closing his eyes and just basking in the feel of her skin against his. How he’d missed this.

She pulled back and moved to cuddle into his side and play with the ring on his finger.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Title from [Stripped](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qU8UfYdKHvs) by Depeche Mode


	10. here

 

Lix

“We should do something.” he said.  
  
“What do you mean?”  
  
“We can’t just lay here in bed all morning.”  
  
“We could.” she challenged.  
  
“We should take advantage of it. We could go to a park or a museum and then we could have lunch.”  
  
“What if somebody sees us?” It wasn’t a very good excuse and she knew it, but it was the only one she had. She wasn’t sure why she didn’t want to go. All she knew was that there things were okay. They were safe from the world. They could do as they pleased, when they pleased. Going out meant putting on a mask to some extent or another, and as exhausted as she was emotionally, she didn’t think she could manage.  
  
But she couldn’t explain this to him and he was insistent. “...and we could drop off by your flat before we go to work so you can get dressed.”  
  
“You won’t stand it.” she warned.  
  
“I- I want to try.” It was that that finally convinced her. He was willing to risk much more discomfort in going than she was. And if he tried it meant they might be able to work. Not that she had started to doubt that yet, but she knew she would the moment they were separated. It would be a comfort later in the day, when they had to pretend again that none of this had happened.  
  
“Okay.” she said. “Are we going to...” she tapped his ring. “...though.”  
  
“We won’t run into anyone.” he assured her. “And if we do, we can always slip them off. Unless… you didn’t want to…”  
  
“Oh, no, no, you’re right. I think I’m quite capable of hiding a ring.”  
  
He beamed at her answer and got up to get dressed. He took much longer than her, and she could see that it bothered him, having to do up his buttons in such a precise way, but she didn’t know how to help, so she said nothing. Not while he dressed, not while he cleaned up breakfast or took his time doing the bed (though she helped with that bit), and not even when he checked the door was locked by jiggling it for what felt like eternity.  
  
When they were almost outside though he paused over the threshold of the door, hesitating, hands clenching and unclenching. “I... the door.” he said.  
  
This time she felt she had to intervene. “You locked it.” she assured him.  
  
“Yes, yes, I know... but...”  
  
She walked over to him and grabbed his face in her hands. “I promise, it’s locked. I promise. I saw you do it.”  
  
He looked down ashamed.  
  
“What’s the worst that could happen? It’s on the third floor. If somebody were to break in it would be because they were specifically looking to break into your flat and I doubt a locked door would stop them.” She didn’t know if she’d gone too far. If this would make his anxiety sky rocket or if picturing the worst case scenario would actually help him. She was about to retract her words when he spoke.  
  
“No, you’re right. You’re right.” He didn’t sound completely honest, but they didn’t go back up and check, which was good.  
  
They walked out and though he looked a bit on edge for quite some time, constantly fiddling with his tie, eventually he calmed and seemed to forget about it almost entirely once they were inside the museum. It was progress.  
  
Lunch went quite well too. No fiddling with the eating utensils (though he had taken her to a fancy restaurant and they were aligned rather well).  
  
Her flat though... that was quite different.  
  
She didn’t know why but her heart was beating out of control as she turned the key. The place was a complete mess and she knew it. She stopped, turning to him. “Do you want me to clean up a bit first.”  
  
He shook his head. She opened the door.  
  
“I’ll be quick,” she promised as she dashed off into her room. Whether she did it because she didn’t want to know if he could handle it or to delay the news, or even both, she didn’t know.  
  
She dressed as quickly as possible though, throwing clothes around everywhere. She prayed he wouldn’t come looking.  
  
He didn’t. When she came out he was sitting on her sofa fiddling with the ashtray. He immediately stopped. “Sorry,” he mumbled, turning to pick at his shirt buttons instead. That was much better than she’d expected.  
  
She remembered in Spain in private he couldn’t resist arranging everything in site. In public he’d been much better than he was now. Bel would have never noticed it if she’d met him all those years ago. The problem now was how much effort he was putting into resisting. Eventually he’d crack. She hadn’t thought that to really test things he’d actually have to be at her flat for a while and now they only had a few minutes.  
  
There was definitely hope though for the fiddling didn’t last for nearly as long afterwards as it had when they’d left his flat. She’d been sure hers would leave him in a state, but thankfully it didn’t.  
  
Work felt like it was going to be the real problem. Already they had slipped off their rings. She could feel the impending separation looming over her. Could she control herself, and not just from him, but from doubting and regretting everything?  
  
She walked up to him and wrapped her arms around his neck, kissing his lips. It was supposed to be a quick chaste kiss, but she couldn't resist darting her toungue into the warmth of his mouth. When she broke the kiss he nuzzled his nose into hers.  
  
"I love you so much." he whispered and standing so close she could see unshed tears in his eyes.  
  
She ran her hands down his chest. They were going to be okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   * Thank you all for reading and the wonderful comments.
>   * I have a second way kinkier part written where they go to work, tease each other, and basically jump into bed every chance the get. Half the thing is a sex scene. But I don't want to promise anything. It needs a lot of editing and I want to write for some other pairings (prob. the thick of it, malcolm/someone). If I do get it done I'll publish it all in one go or as a few oneshots. I forget and tire of having to upload it to three different places every week.
>   * On the more serious side. I doubt it’s a good idea to do what Lix is doing, sort becoming his personal psych. In fact I know from experience it can stress that person immensely. I might go into that a bit. And I won’t just have her magically cure him, but I think just her presence and acceptance calms him to the point she probably won’t mind his quirks too much. I mean, having your house clean is nice, having everything rearranged by alphabetical order and forced to keep it that way, isn’t. I might also go a bit into the fact that eventually it stresses Randall to try and resist the smaller things that she probably wouldn’t mind.
>   * **Edit: If anyone has any ideas or requests, send them and I'll see how I can include them in the second part if I get to it.**
>   * Oh and ch. title from nowhere, though it should have been obvious.
> 



End file.
